The Blood on His Hands
by Jaspers-Girl-and-u-no-it
Summary: "Fearless Guster!" whooped Shawn ... Gus was immediately at Shawn's side panicking." My take of what happened after Shawn was leaned against the car at the end of Takes a Shot. Shulesy! Couldn't resist. T for language. Please read and review!
1. Support System

"Shouldn't we wait for Diesel and Rodriguez before we slap the cuffs on him?" Shawn teased, succeeding for the most part in keeping all signs of agony out of his voice. A trickle of blood made its way down his chest, and Shawn glanced down in time to see it come in contact with his shirt, staining it crimson near his stomach. _Okay, that's more than a trickle._ He lifted his good arm to press the shammy against the wound more securely, biting his lip to trap the cry that threatened to break free. He could hear the threatening tone to Lassiter and Henry's voices—Dad's voice. There was a loud bang, and Shawn glances up to see his kidnappers head colliding with Lassiter's police car as he was shoved into the back seat.

"Oops. I'm sorry, did I do that?" Shawn rolled his eyes, remembering how Lassie had done the exact same thing to him when he had solved his first case—well, his first case with the SBPD. He didn't count his Channel 8 News reveals. The thumping of rubber slapping concrete grew steadily louder, and Shawn looked up to see his best friend alternately throwing him worried glances and gesturing angrily at Jules. Shawn smiled as he read his best friend's lips. _Do you know how bad this is for my car?_

"Spencer!" Shawn whipped his head around at Lassiter's gruff warning, only to see it was directed at his dad. "If you so much as _touch_ my car _or_ my perp I will arrest you and kill you!"

"Not necessarily in that order," muttered Shawn, chuckling at his own joke.

"What was that, Spencer?" Lassiter asked whipping around to glare at Shawn.

"Watch yourself, Clark Kent. You're burning holes through me with your eyes." Lassiter's gaze softened, and Shawn groaned quietly.

"What's wrong?" both men asked simultaneously. Shawn shook his head, rolling his eyes as they both approached him tentatively.

"I'm fine, but Lassie-face I'm ashamed of you! I can't believe you let that go so easily. You're acting like I got shot or something!" Shawn snickered while the elder Spencer just shook his head slowly. The sound of a car door slamming reached his ears, and Shawn's attention shot towards the limping blue Echo, still driven by Juliet.

"Fearless Guster!" whooped Shawn, realizing that his friend had gotten fed up with the slow pace, and had jumped from the moving vehicle. Gus was immediately at Shawn's side panicking.

"Oh God, Shawn! Are you okay? Of course you're not! I'm sorry I was so slow yesterday, but you did kind of wake me up…"

"Gus, I'm fine," Shawn said, trying to reassure his friend by standing up.

"Or not," muttered Lassiter as Shawn felt his body hit Lassiter's.

"Hmm. I could have sworn I was keeping vertical pretty well," mused Shawn, allowing the older detective to lower him to the concrete to lean against his car. The pain came back in waves as his shoulder blade came to rest on the hot metal of Lassiter's car, and Shawn leaned forward, breathing harshly as the sticky material over his exit wound peeled off the car. He could feel the concern radiating from the people around him, and for once in his life Shawn felt uncomfortable in the center of the attention. He chuckled nervously.

"Um, so I'm not going to die or anything, you know?" he mused, his dynamics altering dramatically at intervals as he continued. "So this bedside manner thing is kind of redundant, just like when…" The thick cloud fogging his brain was disorienting to say the least, and Shawn sighed. "Damn. I was sure that was going somewhere good, too!"

"Shawn!" His head snapped up at the voice, and he immediately regretted it. His fingers tried to dig through the asphalt, scraping their tips raw as a broken moan caught in his throat. His head slammed down to rest on his raised knees, the tears leaking from his eyes moistening the fabric on his knees. He felt a presence beside him, felt a small hand lightly come to rest on his right hand. Shawn knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before the ambulance arrived, but to him mere seconds would have been too long.

MacQuarrie's shocked expression as several bullets punched through his chest flashed across Shawn's closed eyelids and he whimpered, too drained to care about the faces gazing down at him in worry. Too tired to care that Lassie may hold this over his head a few months in the future. He watched again and again as the man's body collapsed, blood spattering the floor around him as he writhed in agony. His eyes stared into Shawn's full of pain, regret, and then finally fading to nothing as he breathed his last breath and died. Blood continued to pump from the man at a steady stream, killing him a second time by drowning. Shawn wished desperately to be able to close MacQuarrie's eyes, but could only sob silently. He could only allow the unnamed ringleader in their sick scheme to drag him from the floor and out to a truck, tying him in the back.

A gentle squeeze brought him back to the present somewhat, but he was all too aware of the blood fleeing from his body too fast. _Too fast! Too fast!_ His eyes opened to see the blood of his kidnapper spotting his once pristine shoes, and all at once he couldn't get a certain redheaded woman out of his head. _You let him die_, she hissed, tears flooding her eyes. _You let him _die!

"Stop it!" Shawn screamed, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he reached down and ripped off his shoes. He stood up, dislodging Juliet's hand, and threw them as far as he could. "It's not my fault!" The plea ripped from his throat, and he reached up to grip it. His hands jumped away as they found the bruises where he had been choked into silence. "I didn't want him to die!" he assured her, his voice a broken whisper as he fell to his knees. The woman from the picture just shook her head, tears streaking down her reddened cheeks. She turned away, shoulders slumping as she cried.

"No." Shawn slammed his fists against the ground, the sharp concrete biting into the skin already raw from various restraints.

"Shawn, stop it!" cried Gus, kneeling beside his broken friend and restraining his frantic arms. Shawn's body went limp as he cried. His face turned up to face Gus, the broken expression on it tearing at the other man's heart. "It's okay now," he assured him, glad his best friend wasn't resisting.

"Gus," Shawn mumbled, his sobs reduced to a flow of tears to rival the trailing blood from his wound," I killed him." Gus looked confused, knowing that Shawn would never raise a gun against someone-even to save his own life. "I convinced him to let me call…" he trailed off, feeling Juliet stiffen behind him. He knew how much he must have hurt her with what he'd said, and added to the emotions raging within him it was too much. All his pains came back at once, and he recounted where he had gotten each with perfect clarity, cursing his photographic memory for the sick games it had been playing with him.

His left arm ached from where it had collided with the rolling platform when he dove after his phone.

His ankle throbbed, and Shawn figured it had probably been turned while running through the woods.

His head pounded from where he had first hit it in the trunk of the car, and then from where he had been knocked unconscious with a phone.

His chest screamed in protest from when he had body slammed onto Lassiter's windshield, and Shawn thought he detected a few bruised if not broken ribs.

His shoulder burned where the single bullet had torn at his flesh, burning the skin and tearing through layers of muscle and bone.

Shawn let his upper body fall, relaxing against Gus' chest and sobbing for all he was worth. The approaching wail of an ambulance provided some comfort as Shawn felt suddenly warm, his vision growing fuzzy around the edges.

"Spencer!" barked Lassiter, his tone laced with concern. "Dammit," he muttered angrily. "Spencer, why didn't you tell us you were still bleeding?" Shawn looked down at his shoulder, feeling his facial expression shift slowly, not really registering the stain quickly widening to encompass his entire left chest.

"Oh." He watched, fascinated, as the stain grew, slowly spreading like wildfire as it expanded its boundaries. "Ow." The sound of the ambulance was fading, and Shawn pointed this out with a little difficulty. His dad cursed, and did what he did best—grabbed the police radio and started issuing orders. The sirens started growing louder again, and Shawn was suddenly gripped by panic. He reached up to grab Gus' shirt, holding as tightly as he could, he pulled his friend's ear down to his mouth.

"Jules," he rasped, his throat constricting as he forced out the word. His lips were suddenly parched, and Shawn knew that could only hurt his situation. Gus nodded, and quickly transferred Shawn to Juliet, making up some excuse about going to assess the damage to his car. He reached up and gripped her hand tightly.

"You're going to be fine, Shawn," Juliet assured him, her voice wavering.

"I meant what I said." He paused then added, "On the phone." Her eyes widened slightly, but to her credit Juliet was good at hiding surprise. This was one of the reasons she was such a good cop, Shawn mused.

"Shawn, I…"

"It's okay if you don't," he continued, cutting her off. His words were fast, and soft enough that Juliet had to strain to hear. He nodded his head so she would place her head where he could whisper in her ear. Probably blocking his mouth so none of the cops—employed or retired—could read what he was saying on his lips.

"Shawn," she hissed, trying to stop him before he could degrade himself, but she was unsuccessful.

"It's okay if you don't, because I'm not good enough. I wasn't before and I'm definitely not now." Juliet felt her brow crease, confused as to how being shot and kidnapped would make him somehow not good enough. He would always be good enough, and she needed him to know. She parted her lips to say what she had been about to on the phone when the ambulances ascended on them and chaos ensued

Shawn was quickly taken from her arms and Henry was in an ambulance with his son before she could react.

"Jules?" she followed his scared voice, stopping at the open doors of the ambulance as his partially lidded eyes searched frantically for her. When they found her, Shawn's whole body seemed to relax, and he let his eyes close.

"Shawn?" She sensed that Shawn had something else to say to her, and even though she knew her heart shouldn't be leaping like a teenager's who had just fallen in love, she couldn't very well tell it that, could she?

"I'm not good enough, Jules," he sighed, causing her heart to drop to her feet. The doors started to close, but Juliet could swear she heard the psychic say something dark, and completely unlike him before the doors closed him off to the harsh world.

"I've got too much blood on my hands."

**A.N. So, what did you all think? Reviews are VERY much appreciated! (Thoughtful reviews are especially nice.) I know this has been done before, but I think I did it very differently from everyone else. I know I ended this on a dark note, but if you want me to post a sequel I think I have a happy idea forming in my head at this instant. So please review and tell me… do you want a sequel? Do you have a preference where it takes place? (No hospital! My hospital scenes always feel forced and it's been done. Something original!) Thanks!**


	2. Pained Evidence

**I know I originally had this posted as complete (a one-shot) but everyone who reviewed wanted a sequel (yay!!!) so here it is. But here's the thing... there are so many ideas bouncing around in my head right now, THERE ARE GOING TO BE MORE CHAPTERS TO THIS! I'll get around to all the suggestions from the reviews, I promise, but I had sudden inspiration, and needed to write this!!!! Please enjoy, and review!**

On a normal day Juliet would find herself bored, or even annoyed with this part of her job. Today, she was saddened, sickened, _and_ angered. Definitely not bored, though. Today, Juliet found herself wishing she could be anywhere but here. In fact, there was a very appealing pile of paperwork on Lassiter's desk that she would love to be doing for him.

Speaking of Lassiter—Juliet stole a glance at her quiet partner, taking in how his fists would clench and unclench as he studied his car. To anyone else this would seem a sign of irritation or disgust, but Juliet knew better. Being his partner of four years had taught her quite a bit about the closed off man next to her, and she recognized his motions as anxiety—as worry. She was worried too, and was much worse at hiding it than Carlton. She found herself constantly fidgeting, eyes flickering around the room aimlessly the way Shawn's seemed to do immediately before conversing with the spirits. The way that always seemed to indicate that he was seeing them and listening to them _before_ he alerted those around him.

_Shawn._ Her stomach rolled, and Juliet was glad for the umpteenth time that morning that she had skipped breakfast—too worried about Shawn's condition to even consider eating.

"There's nothing more to see," murmured Carlton, seemingly as anxious as Juliet to get this over with—the wrap up. The case was solid enough that this step in the process probably wasn't even necessary, but the chief had insisted, saying that she wanted everything done to protocol. She didn't want the bastard's who had kidnapped and _shot_ Shawn getting off easy. Well, bastard. One of them was dead now. Juliet flinched, wondering how Shawn must have felt as he watched a man get shot and bleed out in front of him. She knew he blamed himself for it, as irrational as that may be. It was one of the few things that had slipped between his lips while he was sobbing into his best friend on the hot asphalt.

Juliet nodded at Carlton and followed him back into the building, stealing one final glance at the streak of blood dried onto the windshield before escaping the heat and emerging into the air-conditioned station. It was eerily quiet, both from the heavy atmosphere in the building and the lack of Shawn.

Juliet's heels clicked purposefully on the floor as she walked, and she welcomed the distracting rhythm. She unconsciously matched her steps to Carlton's, following him down the stairs at the back of the department and into the evidence room. The final piece of evidence that they had to review was going to be the hardest to stomach. Even though Juliet knew Shawn was okay, and resting in the hospital at that very moment, the idea of him in any pain sent cold daggers into her core. Lassiter produced a pristine envelope, offering it to Juliet.

"O'Hara," he said, voice void of any emotion. Her hands shook as she undid the metal clasp holding the envelope shut, and shook it's contents gently into her hand. A smaller bag with a bloody shammy was placed gingerly on the cold, metal table adjacent to the shelves lining the walls. All that was left was a small black box, showing the end of the story—the video tape from Lassiter's dashboard camera.

Gingerly, she pushed the offending plastic into the VCR and pressed "play," watching the screen flicker with static before it started up. There was a bumpy shot of Santa Barbara streets from a week before, and Juliet hit fast forward until it showed a much darker lighting. She hit play again and stepped back, crossing her arms as she watched the investigation unfold.

She rolled her eyes occasionally, hearing Lassiter and Henry arguing over trivial things, and then suddenly the scene changed to one Juliet recognized. It was the drive over to the service station. She remembered that Lassiter and Henry had gone on foot, and was relieved they had. This way, the tape would be over much sooner, and she could see Shawn. She had been terrified by the state he had been in on the highway. The memory of goofy Shawn sobbing in terror would forever be burned into her memory, and she only hoped she would be able to suppress it.

Her attention flew back to the tape as Shawn's voice came through, albeit muffled. She smiled slightly, wondering how the psychic had managed to project his voice all the way to the tiny microphone inside Lassiter's car.

"_Woo hoo! Go team!_" The sound of wind rushing through the open car windows was crackling in the microphone, but Juliet's attention was focused on the video. She saw Shawn biting at his restraints, and wondered briefly where he would have been taken, and what would have been done to him had they not shown up when they did.

"_I meant what I said. On the phone._" She struggled to keep her panic under control as she watched from Lassiter's point of view, knowing that right then, Gus was turning him away from their car. Suddenly she could hear him over the speaker—clear as a bell.

"_Move closer!"_ She jumped as Lassiter's voice shot through the speakers at a deafening volume.

"Don't you _dare_ jump on this vehicle! This is a brand new vehicle!" There was a pause where Juliet could practically see how Shawn's eyebrows would pull together in disbelief.

"I have been _shot!_ I am jumping on somebody's car!" Juliet bit her lip, holding back a laugh that was pressing at her vocal chords. Trust Shawn to sound so goofy in such a dire situation.

"No, Shawn. Shawn, no. No no no, son!" she heard Henry plead, followed by a pained yell and a loud "_thunk_" as Shawn suddenly came into view, obstructing quite a bit of the road. She could heard Lassiter and Henry groaning, could see where the red stain would sit on the windshield. "Stop the car!" roared Henry, and Juliet could see his hand reaching past the camera towards the glass that separated him from his son.

"Don't you _dare _stop this car, Lassie!" came Shawn's muffled reply as the car sped past the assailants truck.

"Hold on, son," urged Henry, still holding out his arms uselessly towards the younger Spencer. Shawn's eyes rolled, and Juliet sucked in a breath as she worried that he would pass out. Of course, she reminded herself, that was absurd as she knew he had made it and was presently sitting in a hospital bed.

"Good idea, Dad. I was thinking of _not_ doing that!" Juliet smirked, wondering how Shawn managed to infuse so much energy and sarcasm into his voice with a bullet wound while clinging to the hood of a car going over 60 miles per hour. Her heart was pounding in her chest with all the adrenaline resulting from watching this film, and she could only imagine how it had felt for Shawn. The pain must have been excruciating with the increase of blood surging through his injury site which had been jostled—to put it lightly—when he had leapt onto Lassiter's hood.

Lassiter and Henry were fighting over the gun, but Juliet's attention was stuck to the man on the hood of the car. When he spoke next, Juliet's mouth hung open in shock.

"Give me the gun—I have the shot. Give me the gun!" Shawn let go of the car with one hand, pressing his body closer to the vehicle to maintain stability. What shocked Juliet the most wasn't that his dad actually _gave_ him the gun, or even that he managed to shoot out the radiator in the red truck from the hood of a speeding car with only three bullets—though that was very impressive in itself. No, what Juliet shocked Juliet most was what happened after everything had stopped and Shawn's profile had become visible by the camera.

"Nice shooting, Detective." Juliet turned to her partner, grinning unabashed at the embarrassment evident in his face.

"Detective?" she asked, just as Shawn was saying,

"Did you just call me Detective?" Juliet smiled, turning back to the screen but not really watching the video. She already knew what happened next, having been there for most of it, and didn't particularly want to see or hear Shawn in such distress ever again. To distract herself she kept rolling "Detective" around in her mind, pairing it with "Shawn," "Spencer," and sometimes even both.

A small smile intruded her face as she mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Lassiter, searching transparently for any distraction so as not to have to watch what was next on the tape. Juliet wondered why they couldn't just say they had watched it and turn it off, but knew protocol was protocol.

"Nothing, nothing," she said, waving off his question with a flick of her wrist. Inwardly, though, she said it again.

"Detective Shawn Spencer."

_You know,_ she mused to herself. _Somehow, it works._


	3. Walk in the Park, Talk in the Park

**A.N. Nope, I'm not dead! I was just having MAJOR writers block. Fortunately, last nights season premier shook it free! I wrote a story based on that, loved how it turned out, and was finally able to write another chapter of this, and loved how it turned out! Please review and let me know how you like it! I'll probably post a few more chapters, but this was never meant to be a very long story. Therefore, if you have any more requests for locations or scenarios, please review pronto so I'll get around to them!**

Shawn fought hard not to laugh as Gus was verbally assaulted by Gina. Gus angrily disconnected the call, shoving the phone at Shawn who batted it away playfully.

"Cooties," he said, smiling as he leapt away from Gus' advances. Unfortunately, Gus was determined to make Shawn take his phone back, and did the only thing he could think of to make his friend relent—he held it out over a trashcan. Shawn yelped, diving at the electronic, remembering too late that his left arm was supposed to stay immobile.

"Oops," he hissed, plopping down on a nearby bench in an attempt to stop the wooshing sound in his head. "You can have the phone." Under his breath he added, "this hurts like a bitch!"

"Shawn?" Gus asked, sitting down beside him and placing the phone on Shawn's thigh. "You okay?" Pasting on his biggest, fakest smile, Shawn replied,

"I'm great, buddy! Hey, you think you can maybe not mention this to anyone?" He said the last part quietly, voice laced with shame.

"Not mention what to anyone?" came a feminine voice from behind him. Shawn bit his cheek, fighting for control of his face. He wracked his brain for a quick cover story, but even before he spoke he knew it wouldn't be up to his normal standards. Well, he didn't really have all that high of standards anyways, but still…

"I was asking Gus not to tell anyone that we've been sleeping in the same room," he said, not lying about the sleeping arrangements. He had started out at Henry's house, but needless to say _that_ hadn't gone over very well. Both Henry and Gus refused to leave Shawn alone for even a minute until he was healed, and Shawn, though he complained frequently, was actually glad for the company. Juliet's face was skeptical when Shawn turned around, and he found it hard to keep his mouth shut. He wanted nothing more than to break down and cry like a baby, just like he did on that highway. Unfortunately, he didn't have the excuse of an infection-induced fever like before, so that option was out.

"And…?" she asked, refusing to budge until Shawn spilled his guts. Gus sat in the growing uncomfortable silence, before wisely standing up and walking over to the frozen yogurt stand down the path a ways. Her eyes were burning holes in his resistance, and Shawn felt a stab of guilt, remembering the phone call between them. She deserved the truth. Well, she deserved as much of the truth as his pride would allow him to tell.

"And I haven't been taking my pain meds," he admitted, hinting at what the real problem was.

"Shawn!" she gasped, disapproval coloring her voice. "Why not?" He shook his head, working out a way to explain that didn't include mentioning that oh, right… he wasn't really a psychic.

"They make my visions all fuzzy and unclear," he muttered, not exactly lying, but not elaborating. Juliet sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. However, Shawn could see an undercurrent of worry, and very nearly smiled.

"Well it's a good thing the chief told you that you weren't getting any more cases until you healed, now isn't it," she said, her eyes pleading with him. Asking him to tell her more—to share his problems with her.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice scarcely a whisper. Juliet came around to sit on the bench beside him, placing a hand consolingly on his back. His head, which he had rested in his good hand, shot up. She saw a brief flicker of pain shoot through his eyes before he schooled his expression.

"Shawn, there's no need to be," Juliet said, trying to make her voice soothing. She didn't think it sounded very comforting, but it seemed to work as Shawn's rigid body relaxed under her hand. She started running her hand up and down his upper back unknowingly. "We won't let anything happen to you." She rested her head on his good shoulder. "I won't let anything happen to you," she whispered, unintentionally letting Shawn hear the last part. His eyes shot downwards to gaze at her, his expression the epitome of star-struck. Juliet was too busy watching her free hand nervously to notice.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Shawn began shifting around. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she blushed and watched him curiously. Her face softened into a relieved smile as he pulled a small white bottle from his pocket. He looked down at his sling, sighed, and turned to face Juliet with a sheepish smile.

"Hey, Jules. Do you think you could open this for me?" he asked, the corners of his lips folding up just a bit. "It's kinda tricky with one hand." Juliet smiled bigger, nodding. She reached out and placed her hand over his on the bottle of capsules.

"Of course."


	4. Mee Mee's Bounty Hunter Ending

Juliet stared at the door of the old Mee Mee's Fluff and Fold, nervously shifting from foot to foot. She fingered the bottle in her sweaty hands, silently reprimanding herself. She was a cop! She had apprehended dangerous criminals, had guns pulled on her, and even shot people. She didn't need to be nervous about entering Shawn's house! _Besides,_ she reminded herself, feeling tears prick in her eyes, _he has Abigail._

Angrily blinking the moisture from her eyes she lifted her arm and rapped on the door. It sounded professional and collected. _Good._ She winced several times in the next minute, hearing Shawn's pained grunts alternating with loud crashes. When the door finally opened, Juliet felt suddenly light-headed. Had she not better prepared herself, she would have collapsed onto the floor right there. He was wearing nothing but plaid pajama pants and a sling, and that was _it._

Juliet gulped, fighting the pull to bring her fingertips to his chest. She wanted to slide her hands over the contours in his torso, and explore the scar cutting down his sternum. She realized suddenly how little she knew about the Psychic, and how much she _wanted_ to. Did he have open heart surgery? It would appear so. Mostly, Juliet wanted to know what that look on his face meant. His eyes seemed wider than usual, and he appeared to be pinker in color than usual. Juliet blushed, noticing his eyes roaming across her body, and realized suddenly that she was wearing a sundress. _Oh._ Well, that explained the look. Mystery solved.

"Um, you left this near the boardwalk," she told him, thrusting the white bottle of pills towards him. Shawn nodded, smiling broadly at Juliet, and opening his door wider.

"Come on in, Jules!" he offered cheerfully, throwing his good arm out in invitation. She smiled, the smell of coffee drifting from the home. _Don't mind if I do._ Stepping inside, Juliet carefully made her way around piles of books and movies, assuming as she did that those were the reason for all the crashing noises. Shawn moved deeper into the building, sliding past Juliet to get to the kitchen area. She inhaled deeply, smiling as Shawn's scent washed over her in a wave.

"So, what's with all the movies?" she asked, trying to distract herself from his closeness. Shawn, who had been bending over to shove a topple pile out of the way, winced. His shoulders slumped, and Juliet wondered if that had been a bad question to ask.

"I broke up with Abigail," was his explanation. Juliet fought not to gasp, instead forming her features into genuine concern. It appeared that Shawn had totally disregarded her question, but Juliet knew him better then to assume that. In his own way, Shawn _had_ just answered her. The movies had something to do with his ex, and he now wanted nothing to do with them. She nodded even though his back was still to her, trying not to feel elated. Shawn was obviously struggling with this, and she was desperate to not jump him now that he was single.

Sighing, he turned back around. A smile was pasted on his face, and Juliet was relieved to see that it seemed genuine.

"Would you like some breakfast?" he asked, motioning towards his small kitchen area. There was a hotplate sitting on an old folding table, and a mini fridge situated below. The places where the old dryers used to sit had shelves hastily put up to serve as a pantry.

"Shawn, it's almost one." He shrugged, laughing gently in a way that sent warmth through her.

"It's breakfast when you first wake up—no matter when you wake up," he explained, and she rolled her eyes.

"Shawn, I've been awake since six. I slept in." His eyes widened in horror, and Juliet found herself laughing at the Psychic. She felt comfortable doing this, she realized. This just felt right—being with Shawn, him making her breakfast for lunch, laughing with him. It just felt good. He busied himself, pouring cereal into a bowl and pouring juice into a glass. Of course, the glass was shaped like a pineapple, making Juliet smile fondly.

The silence was deafening, so Juliet decided to get to the topic that she had really come here for. She waited until he had gotten them both their food before she began.

"Are you okay?" she asked, glancing briefly to the gauzy white bandage wrapped under one armpit, and over the other shoulder. He shrugged with his good arm, turning to give her a reassuring smile.

"Honestly?" he said, considering his words before replying. "I'm managing." Juliet felt her eyes widen with shock. Since when did Shawn filter what he said, or say anything that could possibly harm his ego? Shawn smiled wider, seemingly knowing just what she was thinking.

"I want to be honest with you, Jules. There are some things that I can't tell you, but I want to tell you everything I can," he admitted. It seemed impossible, but it appeared to Juliet that Shawn was blushing. Her heart went out to him, and she felt the constant tug to hold him increase exponentially. _Well, no time like the present,_ she thought, knowing she couldn't keep herself away from Shawn if she tried. She loved him. Carefully, she turned around in her chair and leaned in for a hug.

His warm torso pressed against hers in a wonderfully familiar way, and Juliet felt herself melt.

"Jules," he whispered in her ear, tickling her gently with his breath. She sighed, squeezing him tighter while still being mindful of his shoulder. Shawn started to pull back, and Juliet slowly unwound her arms, pulling back as well. She would have continued to pull away, if it weren't for one thing—Shawn exhaled, just enough so that she could feel it brush against her lips, and she lost her resolve to give him space and time.

She leaned back in, gathering his face between her hands and coming close.

"Close talking," he realized, his lips touching hers for a brief second as he smiled. She shuddered at the light contact, craving more.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, timing her inhales with his exhales so that they were recycling each other's air. She felt his arms slide around her waist, and waited for his reply.

"Well," he mused, "I think I would be if you would just…" Juliet knew what he was going to say before he finished speaking, and therefore didn't feel the need to let him finish. Her lips moved against his. The sensual meshing had her quaking against him. He remedied her trembling by bringing his hands up to her lower back and the back of her head, pressing the two of them closer together.

Juliet's world was spinning when she finally pulled away for air, resting her forehead against Shawn's.

"…kiss me," he whispered breathlessly, finishing what he had been saying before in true Shawn style. Juliet found herself laughing along with Shawn, who brought their lips together once more for a perfectly imperfect, earth-shattering kiss that finally put both their worlds back together.

**A.N. The end! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I think I got at least one request from everyone who made them in here (or at least incorporated it in some way!) I'm sorry if I didn't, and if you still really want a scene from this episode written I could maybe post it as a story of its own! Thanks for reading! Review, please!**


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